This week we finally moved. At least 75% of our stuff. It is amazing how much stuff a family can accumulate. Not just me–but multiple generations. As we opened each box there were memories of my mother, Simon’s mother. It was fun to see some of our prized possessions again and find just the perfect place to display each item.

Having lived in an exended stay hotel for eight weeks, I wonder how much stuff we really need. A bed, a refrigerator (ice box), a stove, a pot and a frying pan. It reminds me of the song Anatevka from Fiddler on the Roof:

A little bit of this, a little bit of that.
A pot, a pan, a broom, a hat.

Someone should have set a match to this place years ago.
A bench, a tree.
So, what’s a stove? Or a house?
People who pass through Anatevka don’t even know they’ve been here.
A stick of wood. A piece of cloth.

What do we leave? Nothing much.
Only Anatevka.

Anatevka, Anatevka.
Underfed, overworked Anatevka.
Where else could Sabbath be so sweet?
Anatevka, Anatevka.
Intimate, obstinate Anatevka,
Where I know everyone I meet.

Soon I’ll be a stranger in a strange new place,
Searching for an old familiar face
From Anatevka.

I belong in Anatevka,
Tumble-down, work-a-day Anatevka.
Dear little village, little town of mine

One of the things that Anatevka had was a sense of community, a sense of family. Even if it was tumble-down, it was home. Not perfect but much beloved.

In this modern era it is also important to have internet, electricity, a television and a computer. When we first got here we referred to it as yuppie camping. After all, we have a roof so were dry in some thundersorms and air conditioning. Someone made my bed almost every morning and their was breakfast, coffee, cookies and dog treats each day. The staff was pleasant, efficient, friendly.

All of that is good, a helpful and I might even miss some of it. However, when I strip away everything, like that little village of Anatevka, what I really need is a bed, a pillow, a blanket. Even more importantly Simon and Sarah. People who love and care about me. People with whom together we can do anything (even live in a hotel for eight weeks!). That is what home is. As Robert Frost said, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” Rabbi Jeffrey Summit, rabbi at Tufts Hillel sang,  in one of his early albums sang, “If home is where the heart is then I have a lot of homes. Once the leaving’s started, you keep going, you keep going home.”

This is about what makes a house a home. Friday night we had supper, Shabbat dinner in our new home with friends from the congregation. It was potluck, a little heavy on the carbs and absolutely delicious. It was important to me that very first Shabbat to have company. To make Shabbat. To welcome Shabbat. To welcome guests. To welcome the presence of God.

Every morning we sing Ma Tovu, words of a ancient non-Jewish prophet, “How good are your tents, O Jacob; your dwelling places O Israel.” This week I really understand that verse. Having a house; having a home is a good thing. A very good thing. Part of the reason the Israelites tents were so good, is because of modesty. No tent looked into another tent. This is true of my new house. I cannot see into anyone else’s home.

Every day we sing Ashrei, “Happy is he one who dwells in the house of the Lord.” Siddur Sim Shalom translates Ashrei as “blessed”, but that misses the mark. Ashrei usually is translated as happy. But that is different than simcha, joy. Some have talked about the pun with this word, that it carries with it the sense of rich.

This verse is one that I enjoy discussing with our Hebrew School kids about. What does it mean to be happy? What does it mean to dwell in the house of the Lord? What house? How is a synagogue, a beit kneseth, like a house? This year’s answer delighted me. We are happy when we are synagogue because we have fun.

We are very, very grateful today, for we are indeed very rich and very happy. May that sense of happiness, of fun, of joy be true in our new home. May we continue to welcome guests, Shabbat and G-d’s presence into our home. And may we always be surrounded wherever we go with the people who love us. Then we will have found home.